


Another Man's Shoes

by JollyCat



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyCat/pseuds/JollyCat
Summary: Nick and Sean are enemies, an uneasy truce the best that seems possible. But Nick and Sean are linked by a spell and they should surely have realised that no spell is without side effects...





	1. Chapter 1

Sean wakes up, gasping for breath and fighting his way out of the dream by sheer willpower. It's not the first time it's happened recently and waking like this is ridiculous, humiliating. He's so hard he hurts and he will not, _will not_ , think about why. He surges from the bed and heads to the bathroom, splashes cold water on his face. He looks at himself in the mirror, sees his own familiar features. Older, he thinks, tireder. He's reminded again how oddly different it was seeing his own face as others see it, not a reflection or a photograph but him. Except not him but another person wearing his face, his body. A man he hates. Of course he does.

 **

Nick rolls away from Adalind, mutters, 'Sorry, too hot,' in explanation. It hardly seems necessary though because Adalind has already turned away, doesn't seem to feel the need to sleep entwined. He lies there, physically satisfied but somehow restless, _un_ satisfied. Nick runs his hand across his chest, is strangely reminded of how it felt in Renard's body, the smooth skin over the hard muscles. Hell, what is he doing, why should he be thinking of Renard now of all times? A man he hates. Of course he does.

**********

 

Renard sits in his office, paperwork in front of him. From the corner of his eye he can see Griffin and Burkhardt at their desks, Wu in conversation with them. One of those conversations he can tell - Wesen or spells or his own untrustworthiness - because they're glancing towards him and Burkhardt has that stubborn look on his face. This office used to be the place in the world he felt most at home, some days now it feels like a prison with three guards who will never let him forget his failings. He'd like to be angry, like to want retribution, like to plot for power again, make them all sorry they crossed him... but all he feels is weary of the whole thing. They've made their minds up about whatever they're discussing anyhow, are turning towards him.

It's Griffin who talks, Burkhardt leaning against the wall by the door: five files, five cases and they think they're linked. Only one is officially theirs, a man who walked out of his house one day, turned up three days later, injured, unable to explain where he'd been and then died shortly afterwards. It's being treated as a homicide although they have no clear idea of how or why he died.  
"His wife says he seemed confused, 'not himself' - she used that phrase a lot. From all we've heard about the guy 'not himself' could have only been a good thing, he was violent, bigoted and made himself a lot of enemies."  
Renard leafs through the file, tries to keep his face impassive, his voice calm.  
"Sounds like you could find plenty of supects for this one then. Why do you think it's interesting and why do you think it's linked to these?" He gestures to the other folders, all missing person reports. As far as he can see they are unusual only in that all the missing people turned up, some after just a few hours, the longest after a few days.  
Griffin glances round at his partner but when Burkhardt doesn't speak he continues,  
"Nick thinks they're all Wesen. All of their relatives - of the dead guy and the others, the ones who went missing but came back alive - all of their relatives said they were 'not themselves' again and again but wouldn't explain further. He thinks that's maybe what they're talking about - that the people who came back, that's what's missing, the Wesen part of them. We'd like to talk to them again, the people who came back, press the family of the dead guy a little more."  
They have a lot in their caseload already but if Renard says no they'll probably just do it anyway. He looks at the files, separates one,  
"Okay, talk to them. If there is a link we need to know." He gestures to the file he's set aside, 'Gary Mechnitz, one of your missing, he is Wesen. He's a Jägerbar with a temper to match, and the family is well-connected in...various ways. I'm not sure there will be much goodwill towards you, it might be useful for me to come with you."  
Burkhardt speaks for the first time, tone hard, dismissive,  
"Not happening. But we'll let you know if your Black Claw pal has anything interesting to say."

Gary Mechnitz lives in a beautiful house with a beautiful family: wife, two small daughters, an older son. And the man himself is surprisingly cordial after Renard's warning. And yet...and yet all Nick's instincts as both cop and Grimm say something is wrong in this house: the way Mechnitz's wife flinches away, the subdued children. Mechnitz claims not to remember anything about his disappearance, the missing hours, says he's fine, it's nothing he wants pursued. Nick tries to push, to provoke and he can tell from the tension in the room that Mrs Mechnitz expects some reaction. He watches for the woge but there's nothing. The one tiny lead they get is that Mechnitz did know one of the other victims, a business rival, clearly not a friend. It's a start. As they leave the boy, maybe 10 or 11, dark hair falling across his face, stops them, speaks,  
"I don't know what happened to my dad but I'm glad it did. He's much nicer this way, we're going to be a happy family now. " He raises his chin, looks at them defiantly as though expecting them to argue. Nick can't quite get him from his mind as he drives home, back to the loft and Adalind and Kelly.

Nick is in bed, drifting between asleep and awake but still thinking about that last interview of the day. The dark haired boy wanting a happy family. It's what Nick's always wanted, what he has he tells himself firmly, thinking of Kelly sleeping close by, Adalind moving around somewhere in the loft. Nick slides into sleep.

_The house is familiar, not a fancy house or a smart one but a home, his home. His dad's in the kitchen cooking dinner, his mom sat at the table. They all joke about his mom's cooking but his dad's is good. Nick drifts through the house, through the memory - the living room with its squashy, comfortable couch, his room with the toys and the posters, his bed, the fairytale books his mom says he can't ever be too old for. He goes round the corner and along the hallway, ignoring the views of the castle grounds far below, and into the school room. His brother is already there, smiling smugly. He can feel the weight of anxiety, the dread, because whatever's causing that smile will not be good for him._

Nick stirs in his sleep, this isn't right, he hasn't got a brother, certainly never lived in a castle. And this feeling, this place, it's like the Mechnitz's today, it's all wrong.

_He's tall for his age, as tall as his brother even though he's two years younger. Take your punishment like a man, like a prince they say. He wants to cry and say he's ten years old but he knows it will do no good. Lock it away and then do everything he can to protect himself, it's all he can do. Even though it's not enough, not anywhere near enough._

Nick hears his own muffled cry, pulls himself from the dream. He's actually shaking he realises. Where the hell did that come from? He's still alone in the bed but he pulls the pillow towards him, holds it close as though for comfort. He's not sure if he's comforting himself or the unknown traumatised child. 'Unknown', a tiny part of himself snorts, how many people does he know who lived in a castle and got called a prince?

Sean wakes shuddering. As though his present life isn't bad enough he has to start dreaming about Kronenberg? He pulls the pillow close to him, hauls the covers as tight around him as he can until it's almost like being held and falls back to an uneasy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Nick wakes and reaches across the bed, feels a definite sense of disappointment when there's no one there. He's snug and comfortable, last night's dream half-forgotten. He's also more than a little horny and he slides a hand down under the covers, his mind wandering as he touches his own familiar skin. Being in someone else's body had been so odd his mind keeps straying back to it, being so tall, seeing from a different angle, the different reach and stretch and pull of muscle. And even though there'd hardly been much time and his mind had been focused on other things he'd looked at that body, all of it. Who wouldn't, after all? And how would it have felt to touch with someone else's hands, feel this sensation in someone else's body? He holds and strokes, imagines a different size, a different weight. And how, the thought follows, would it feel to have those big elegant hands touch him. His hand speeds up-  
"Are you really doing what I think you're doing? Because if you are, you are changing the sheets."  
Nick opens his eyes, looks into Adalind's distinctly unamused ones. Ah.

Nick's day doesn't really improve: breakfast is grouchy, Kelly throws up, Diana smashes a glass. After recent events things are pretty quiet at the precinct but none of their cases are breaking. Renard's not in his office - not that he cares - and so he and Hank head out to interview their 'something missing' victims.

Charles Fanara, Matt Sendler. Neither of them sound like upstanding citizens: Fanara was Gary Mechnitz's business rival - a rivalry that seems to have included criminal damage and extortion if Fanara's girlfriend is to be believed - and Sendler has a record as a small time drug dealer. Fanara certainly has that sense of something missing, no anger or enthusiasm or passion when they talk, but equally no sign of a woge. Sendler's the same at first, even when Nick gets a little aggressive, brings out the Grimm.  Nick's right in Sendler's face when the door to the apartment suddenly bangs open, making both Nick and Hank reach for their guns: Sendler may be weirdly docile but it turns out his mother definitely isn't. "Fuchsbau," Nick mutters to Hank, as they both back away.

Once they've calmed Mrs Sendler down enough to talk she tells them Matt is definitely different and agrees - reluctantly - with Nick that she hasn't seen him woge since whatever happened. She can't tell them much about what did happen though, where her son was for two whole days. As they go to leave she comes up to Nick, clearly nervous of him but equally determined to make her point,

"I know he's made mistakes, been stupid and easily led. But he's my son, don't threaten him again or come back unless you have something useful to tell us. We don't need Grimms."

 

Renard has had a morning of meetings, not easy ones. Oh, most of the people he deals with have no idea about what's gone on, about Black Claw or Wesen, definitely not Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester, but he's no longer the golden boy of the Portland Police Bureau, his behaviour has been too strange, his decisions too left-field. Those who do know trust him even less of course. Now he's driving back to the precinct and all the problems there, and he is just so tired of the whole thing. He pulls over suddenly, turns off the engine. He'd hardly slept the night before, he'll just shut his eyes.

Nick and Hank go looking for their final victim but he's not at home, not at work. They decide to wait him out and park up. The car is warm, the wait is long and Nick is suddenly so tired he can barely keep his eyes open, the weight of his weariness enough that he doesn't argue when Hank says don't worry, he'll watch for their guy.

_He feels so lost because everything familiar has gone - his mom, his dad, his home. But at least there's Aunt Marie. She's not like his mom, even though they're sisters, but he knows she's in his corner. She's tough too, stands up to people, fights for him. Nick isn't strong, he's not good at sports or lessons, he sticks out because he's that strange kid whose parents died. Aunt Marie says strange isn't always bad. He thinks she's pretty cool for a librarian._

_He feels so lost because everything familiar has gone - his father, his brother, the only home he knows. He hated it but he knew it, knew what to expect, how to survive. But at least there's his mother. She's not like other mothers, he knows that, but he knows she's in his corner. She's tough and clever, stands up to people who want to hurt him, fights for him, kills for him. Sean is strong and tall but he's different, he sticks out because he's that strange kid with the wrong accent, the wrong clothes, doesn't understand sports or what the others talk about. His mother says ignore other people, they don't matter: if he looks after himself, protects himself, makes himself strong and powerful then what others think will be irrelevant. He thinks his mother is right_

_He misses being touched, being hugged and kissed. His mom used to grab him as he ran past and he used to complain but he liked it really, his dad used to ruffle his hair, swing him round. Aunt Marie doesn't hug, doesn't kiss much. When he has his own family he's going to hug them all the time. He can't quite imagine a girlfriend or a wife, he's still not sure about girls, though his friends think they're fascinating, but if he has a son he's going to hug him._

_He's glad not to be touched anymore. His mother brushes his cheek occasionally, rests a hand on his arm but she knows his limits. There are girls - and boys - who would like to be close to him but he can't imagine it. He doesn't think he'll ever have a family._

"Hey, he's here."  
Nick starts, wakes up with an exclamation. Hank is looking at him, a puzzled expression on his face,  
"Nick, did you just call me 'Sean'?"  
"Er, no, I said 'sure', sure, I'm awake."  
"Okay. Well, lets go talk to this last guy."

Nick and Hank are at their desks when Renard arrives. Nick watches him walk past, the slight hesitation in his step as he passes them. God, the man looks tired, like he hasn't slept in a month. Nick and Hank have been running over their witness statements but it's not making much sense yet. Nick's sure it's Wesen though, everything is these days.  
"Let's take this stuff to the Captain, see if he has any ideas."  
Hank looks at him,  
"You sure?"  
"Why not? It's what he's paid for after all."

 

Renard sits behind his desk, casts a glance over the ever present paperwork. He'd slept for over an hour in his car and he can only be grateful no patrol officers came past his badly parked vehicle and found him. And now Burkhardt and Griffin are heading his way. He pulls himself a little straighter in his chair, rubs his hand across his face.

This time it's Burkhardt who talks, lays out the files,  
"Sendler's a fuchsbau, Mechnitz is a Jägerbar and I think this last guy was maybe reinigen - I didn't see him woge of course but his son was around, I saw something but not clear enough to be sure. There's at least one link between each of them, could they all know each other? So where would Wesen like this meet? You know anything that would help? And what kind of Wesen might attack all, of them? I mean reinigen, fuchsbaus, they'd be easy to take down but a Jägerbar's more of a challenge..."  
He sounds all Grimm, Renard thinks, the good detective he once was disappearing more with every Wesen death. Although he suspects you could say the same about him too.  
"Nick, think like a cop for a moment." Damn, he called him Nick. "What's the timeline here? Because there's a lot of uncertainty as to when some of them actually went missing. Can we learn anything more from how these men know each other? Can CSU tell us anything?" He spreads his hand over the files, "This might be Wesen, could well be but maybe think it through before you get the ax out."

Ni-, Burkhardt is staring intently at his hand on the files, then looks up at him for a second. Renard fully expects some bitter comment but instead Nick pulls the files to him, shuffles them into order and then spreads them back out on the desk.

If they take the dates each of the men returned, if they take the strongest link between the victims the pattern emerges,  
"So, victim 1, Fanara, is well known for his feud with victim 2, Mechnitz. Victim 2 hates victim 3, victim 3 hates victim 4.”  
"And there's a similar timescale between each reappearance except 4 and 5.”  
"And no link between them."  
"So either the other links are coincidence or we've overlooked something -  
"Or there's another victim -”  
"- one who the fourth victim hated -"  
" - and who hated the fifth, no sixth victim in turn."  
"And if we find that link then we know there's a pattern -”  
”And if we take a really good look at victim six, this one, Sendler, maybe we could predict the next one -”  
"And catch whoever - or whatever - is doing this in the act."  
Their hands are both on the same folder, side by side and they're looking at each other, straight in the eye.

As they leave the office to go make a start on looking for the links, the missing victim, Hank glances across,  
"Been a while since you two talked through a case together like that."  
"I still hate him."

********

There is one thing in Sean's life that he's not tired of and that's Diana. Not that she doesn't bring problems of her own, not that he doesn't worry, not that she doesn't scare him at times, not that he isn't scared for her but ... she's his daughter and he loves her. Evenings like this, her sitting at the table drawing (’Use your hands to hold the pen sweetheart, remember what we talked about?'), him chopping vegetables, it's nearly a normal life. Except his daughter should still be in pre-school and when he goes to put the pipérade in the oven the door is opened for him from across the room. Still, it's probably as close as he'll ever get.  
"Mommy and Nick were cross with each other this morning."  
He shouldn't but he can't help asking,  
"What about?"  
Diana tilts her head, considers her picture: mommy, daddy, Nick, Kelly, herself,  
"She's bored."

"You're bored?"  
Nick thinks the last thing anyone could accuse him of is an uninteresting life. Okay, things have calmed down a little recently but...bored?  
"Nick, look at the time. Detectives work long hours, I know that, Grimms work longer ones. But while you're out doing that I'm in this loft with a small child."  
"I thought that was what you wanted?"  
"So did I Nick, so did I. But if there's one thing I've learned in the last few years it's that sometimes what you think you want isn't quite what you'd thought it would be when you get it."  
Nick opens his mouth to reply, decides he's not going to think about the things Adalind's wanted over the years, certainly not going to say anything. Apart from anything else he's tired and the bed that's now usually Diana's is small. Go to bed and talk it through some other time, that's the best plan.

_He has a child. Against all the odds something tiny and perfect and beautiful has come out of all the spells and anger, the deceptions and manipulations. Adalind looks tired but the expression on her face when she looks at her - no, their child, it lifts her face from prettiness to beauty. He wants to be with this baby, wants to protect his child from all harm. He wants to be a father, to be called daddy, to teach and to learn and to share every day - and the strength of the feeling amazes him. How can something so small, so unexpected have this effect on him? Can he be a good parent? Can he really do it? Can he do it with Adalind? _

Nick wakes, goes to check on Kelly.  
Sean wakes, goes to check on Diana.


	3. Chapter 3

Nick wakes up and rolls over, reaching for the warm body next to him. Not so much for sex (although he feels his body give a small interested twitch at the possibility) but for touch and comfort and the joy of being held. His fingers touch smooth skin, he slides his hand across a hip... and realises to his horror it's not the warm body he was expecting, it's Adalind.  
He sits bolt upright in shock and Adalind, startled from sleep, eyes wide, asks,  
"What the hell?"  
"I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you..."  
"Expecting me? I don't know who else you thought you'd find in bed with you."  
Obviously the very last thing he can say is the truth, that he was expecting Sean Renard to be next to him.

Nick gives Kelly his breakfast, plays with him for a while and then heads out. He drives away from the loft but after half a mile or so he pulls over, thinks about waking up this morning. And not just this morning he has to acknowledge, he's woken up hard and wanting and thinking about Renard most mornings lately. He's made excuses, pretended to himself it was just coincidence but then yesterday he'd found himself staring at Renard's hand lying on the desk, remembering his thoughts of that hand touching him. Then there are the dreams. Not his dreams alone, not his memories alone. Not his imagination. The transformation spell, it must be. So what does he do? He can't talk to Rosalee and Monroe, he's not sure how they'd react to any suggestion of a spell linking him and Sean. He clearly can't talk to Adalind. That leaves only one possibility he can think of. He pulls out his phone and sends two messages, one to Hank saying he's following a lead and will be a little late, the other to Eve.

Eve sits opposite him in the coffee shop, untouched cup in front of her. Even now Nick finds it hard to see much of Juliette behind that familiar face. He's also not quite sure how to start this conversation.  
"You uh, you took the Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester to turn you into Renard."  
"I did. When I was Juliette I also took the Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester to transform into Adalind in order to give you your Grimm abilities again."  
"So, um, have you had any, you know, side effects?"  
"You mean apart from becoming a hexenbiest?"  
Nick thinks he should have thought that question through more carefully. Fortunately Eve continues,  
"I assume as you transformed into Sean Renard you are currently more interested in any side effects relating to that? I experienced a..." She pauses a second, searching for the right word, " A moment in which I felt strong emotions that were not my own."  
"And what was it you felt?"  
"I believe it was Meisner's death."  
There is silence for a moment, Nick stirs his undrunk coffee, Eve looks at hers.  
"Was that the only time?"  
"I believe so. You have had similar experiences?"  
"I've had some dreams that seemed weird. Things from my life and ... his life that were kind of similar."  
"Did you dream of of Juliette? Of me?"

It's like a rapid fire slideshow, but one with senses and emotions as well as images,  
_A surge of affection as he looks at Juliette curled up on the couch, lost in her book; Juliette opening the door, knowing he should turn away but the white heat of desire and enchanted obsession keeping him standing there; Juliette in the kitchen throwing boiling water at Oleg Stark; Juliette kissing him, pain like glass in his split lip, asking if it hurts; seeing Juliette as a hexenbiest, his revulsion and guilt; Juliette woged beneath him, his Zauberbiest surging forward in response, Juliette dead, his grief a defence against his relief.._.

He shakes his head to clear it but in his confusion what he says is most definitely not what he meant to admit to,

"I...., I sometimes dream about him, about sleeping with him."  
"You dream of sex with Sean Renard?" She smiles very slightly, "You always found him desirable, even though you pretended otherwise. You even imagined him sometimes when we were...intimate. Perhaps that is not entirely due to the Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester?"  
Nick just stares, because there really, really doesn't seem any response he can make.

 

To say that Eve has given him something to think about would be an understatement and Nick heads to the precinct virtually oblivious to the traffic around him, ignoring horns and startled drivers. Eve said he found Renard desirable (and okay, okay, he'll admit to the occasional fantasy in the past but how did Juliette know? And why the hell does Eve remember that little nugget when so much of who she once was is gone? ) but she'd also suggested that the difference in their reactions to the transformation spell might be because Nick spends more time with Renard. So is that the solution? That he distances himself? And how long would it take? A couple of weeks vacation? Or would he need to never see Renard again? And why does that seem such a bad idea when he's supposed to hate Renard? His mind still racing he heads into the precinct.

Hank is at his desk, Wu perched next to him. Nick pulls out his own chair, tries to focus.  
"So, what we got?"  
"We think we got a link on this case -”  
" - the woge vampire - " Wu interrupts. Must have been up all night thinking of that one.  
" - from the interviews we did yesterday with our fourth victim's widow and Sendler's mother and we think we have someone in common. This guy."  
Nick looks at the file: Brandon Smith, 52, teaches history at a local college.  
"So what's the link between him, the dead guy and the drug dealer? He doesn't seem much like the others."  
"Well, the reason he hated our last victim, Sendler, is that Smith's daughter died after taking drugs that he thought Sendler supplied."  
"Sounds like we need to talk to this guy."  
Nick pushes his chair back and it's only as he stands that he realises that there is a strange atmosphere in the room. Although there are a few detectives around, the place is unusually quiet and definitely tense. In fact the only real noise is the sound of a raised voice, not shouting exactly but ... forceful and coming from behind the closed door of Renard's office.  
"What's going on?"  
Wu answers,  
"The assistant commissioner of police, no less. Everyone thinks Renard's getting fired in there. Let's face it, he's not exactly been playing with a full deck lately."

Renard's office is fairly soundproof but Nick's hearing is much better than most people's. In the strange quiet of the bullpen and if he concentrates he can hear what's being said,  
" - you don't even have the respect of your own detectives. From what I'm hearing Burkhardt and Griffin do exactly what they like, when they like. You were the best captain in the Bureau but why should I think you're the man for this job if - ".

Assuming Eve is right that would solve the problem of this weird connection. If Renard is fired he won't have reason to see him or be anywhere near him - Adalind can pass Diana from her to Renard, he needs no contact at all - and Renard is his enemy, a man he hates. Or did. Or thought he did. Or...  
Nick stands suddenly, grabs the file, turns and heads to the office, knocks on the door. The commissioner's voice stops abruptly. Nick opens the door.  
"I am so sorry to disturb you sir, but I did want to check with you about the case we were discussing yesterday. Hank and I didn't want to head off without updating you as it might need some additional manpower. Would it be ok to take a minute of your time?"

Renard doesn't miss a beat, only a raised eyebrow betraying any surprise,  
"Of course Nick, I'm sure the assistant commissioner won't mind."  
Nick comes round the desk, right next to Renard, puts the file in front of him. The last time he was this close to the other man he looked just like him. He breathes in, he always smells good. Even when fighting on rooftops actually.

Nick points out a few developments, ones that Renard probably already knows,  
"Once we have proof of this link we've got the opportunity to prevent a crime but we might have quite a few potential victims, we'll need some uniforms."  
Renard turns a page (Nick watches his hands), makes a note. They talk through the manpower that might be needed, the next steps, Renard makes a note and a phone call to approve the additional officers. Nick turns to go and, trying hard for his 'never-heard-of-a-blutbad-or-a-Zauberbiest-young-and-innocent-detective look', says,  
"You'd mentioned about coming with us, Captain, I'll let you know when we're ready to make a move."  
Renard's eyebrow rises again but he just nods.  
The assistant commissioner stops Nick as he heads past him,  
"Detective Burkhardt, quite an undercover job you did recently."  
"Thank you sir. It was a challenge but then trying to be someone you're not is bound to be tricky. It does give you an insight though."

Hank and Wu both watch him approach with identical puzzled expressions.  
"What the hell was that about?"  
Wu chimes in, "Didn't look like you were joining the call for his resignation from here. I thought you'd be standing cheering as the jerk cleared his desk."  
Nick shrugs,  
"He's my jerk, not seeing him chucked out by some paper-pusher who hasn't actually seen a murder victim in twenty years . C'mon, let's go." He turns away.  
Wu mouthes at Hank, 'His jerk?"  
Hank raises his hands questioningly, turns and follows Nick.

 

Renard sits in his office, watches the assistant commissioner in the opposite chair. The man's lost the flow of his complaint and Nick's appearance (and what was that about?) has definitely confused him. Five minutes ago Renard had barely bothered to listen to him, too weary to argue. But hell, Nick getting the better of him is one thing but he's not being defeated by some paper-pusher who hasn't actually seen a murder victim in twenty years.

Brandon Smith is definitely another casualty of whatever is going on, but he can't tell them anything - he's lying blankly in a hospital bed, lights on but no-one home at all. It proves their theory but doesn't help much, so back to Matt Sendler and his mother and his contacts as they try to find out who he hated, who could be next. The afternoon passes, names, ideas but nothing concrete. Eventually they call it a day.

*********

Sean is sitting on the couch, glass of wine on the table next to him. Diana is in bed and he's actually managed to stay awake to a civilised hour. Officially he's reading, catching up on a backlog of memos and reports (which makes it more surprising still that he's awake), but really he's thinking about Nick. Why did he come into the office today, why the change in attitude? And what did he mean about being someone else giving him insight? Sean drains his glass, heads for his own bed.

Nick is also in bed, the narrow one where Diana usually sleeps. It's too small for him and it feels like the banishment Adalind intended it to be. Nick never thought to tell Eve to keep their conversation to herself and of course Adalind and Eve had to visit the Spice Shop at the same time. He's not quite sure what Eve said, he is sure that when Diana gets back tomorrow he's on the couch. Although he will need to buy a couch first. But despite the discomfort, despite the fight with Adalind it's Renard who's in his thoughts as he falls asleep.

 _The Captain speaking Russian, that was so hot. And Latin, although the Russian was the best. Renard in his uniform; leaving the precinct to face the Wesenrein side by side, Volcanalis, how many other Wesen have they fought together? Seeing him lying in a hospital bed, shot while trying to save Nick from Adalind's plotting; Renard turning against him, betrayal, stealing his family..._ Nick, stirs, no, not going there now... _the night Kimura attacked Renard; sending Monroe and Rosalee on honeymoon; the first time they met - him on his nervous first day, a warm hand on his shoulder; the new detective looking up at him, blue eyes through long lashes; fighting outside the old house; Eric trying to steal his detective, his Grimm, he'll die for it..._

Nick turns and stirs in his sleep, curls up in the narrow bed. Dreams of Sean's hands, Sean's mouth. What would it be like to kiss him, kiss those lips. It feels so close, as though he could just reach out...

...Sean half wakes, touches a hand to his mouth. It almost felt like someone kissed him


	4. Chapter 4

_He wishes someone had told him, explained it to him. Why keep this from him, why let him falter and flounder his way into this strange new reality? Part of him is excited by the strength, the strangeness, the discovery of a whole new world. Part of him is terrified. He doesn't really know what it means, this discovery of a new part of himself. He's eleven years old, he's a child. He's a prince - of sorts. And now he's a Zauberbiest._

_He wishes someone had told him, explained it properly. Why keep this from him, why let him blunder his way into this strange new life? Part of him enjoys the strength, the strangeness, the discovery of a whole new world. Part of him is terrified. He doesn't really know what it means, this discovery of a new part of himself. He's a normal guy. He's a detective. And now he's a Grimm._

_It's addictive, being faster, stronger. The fear when others see what he is shocks him at first, upsets him but he gets used to it, uses it eventually. He sees the changes in his own body, the layers of muscle, the width of shoulders. He sees differently. He hears differently. He's a Zauberbiest. He's a Grimm._

_He's not to be trusted, will kill and destroy because that is his nature. That's what they say, that he can't be anything more than this one part of himself. He doesn't feel that way, wants to be different, wants to care, wants to be more than the stereotype. He's a Zauberbiest. He's a Grimm._

_He hides what he is from most people but he can never hide it from himself. He's done things that others blame on what he is, things he regrets. But if it was taken away he would mourn its loss. Did mourn it's loss. He's a Zauberbiest. Or is he a Grimm?_

"Nick, wake up. Nick!"  
He stirs but he doesn't want to leave the dream.  
"Nick, will you wake up."  
Nick half opens his eyes but his mind is still focused inward. Reluctantly, finally, he opens his eyes fully, sits up. Adalind is standing watching him.  
"Nick, you have to to go to work soon and I am not spending another whole day here waiting for you to have a conversation. We need to talk."

Nick drives to work feeling rather bewildered, as oblivious to the traffic round him as he was the day before. He's not entirely sure if he's had a fight with Adalind or not, it certainly wasn't how he'd ever imagined a fight with a hexenbiest would go. Adalind says she wants more, that she loves him, loves Kelly but she wants more. More what? More of him? Does she want him to give up his job, give up being a Grimm (oh, already done that once). More money? More sex? Better sex?  
He drives across a red light, misses an intersection. He loves Kelly. Kelly is his son, his family. He couldn't bear not having Kelly. And then there's Renard. Sean.

Hank is already at his desk, Wu hovering, Renard in his office. Nick takes a deep breath, feels himself settle. They make calls, follow the paper trail, trace a path between Matt Sendler and the people that he hated, at least as much as he hated anyone: a rival who threatened him, an old teacher, a few less likely candidates. The next step is to see these people. Wu heads off to round up some uniforms to go talk to the also-rans and Hank stands to leave. Nick catches his arm,  
"Hank, I need to talk to the Captain. If we're going to split up would you go with Wu? And I'll go with the Captain."  
"Should I be worried?"  
"No. No, it'll be fine."  
Nick heads to the Captain's office, knocks on the frame.  
"We're heading out to see the possible victims. Are you coming along?"  
"I thought that invitation was for the assistant commissioner's benefit?"  
"It might be useful."  
A pause.  
"Very well."

Hank and Wu head off to see the threatening rival, the likelier candidate in their opinions. Nick isn't too worried, even if the guy is one of the nastier Wesen Hank is well able to look after himself after all these years and Wu, well, he has his own back-up with him. Nick sits in the passenger seat of Renard's big SUV, can't even remember the last time they were together like this. He looks out of the corner of his eye at the other man, the strong profile, the dark, close-cropped hair. He looks maybe fractionally less tired but Nick can see the shirt collar is looser than it used to be, as though he's lost weight recently, can see the tension of the jawline. They need to talk but ... not just yet. Nick shuts his eyes deliberately.

_He watches the other man, knows the way he stands, the way he leans against the desk when he comes to talk. He likes his height, his hands, the rare laugh. It's usually enough that he's just there, a fixed point in a difficult and dangerous job, but occasionally the smile is for him, the touch of an arm. He takes those moments, imagines and re-imagines them. He never says these thoughts, never really lets himself dwell on them, never acknowledges these feelings for what they are. Until suddenly it all changes because he finds out what the other is. He's a Zauberbiest._

Renard watches Nick surreptitiously, here in his car and apparently so at at ease he's nearly asleep. Just like the old days, he thinks bitterly. And yet he's having to work hard not to relax, not to give into this, not to enjoy Nick's presence. He can't help the memory.

_He watches the other man, knows the way he stands, hands on hips, the way he looks up from under floppy dark hair. He likes his eyes, his laugh, the neatly compact body. But he's human - and a subordinate. Occasionally he lets himself imagine, fantasies in which he doesn't need to hide his true strength, his true self, but he never lets himself dwell on them, the impossibility. Until suddenly it all changes because he finds out what the other is. He's a Grimm._

Renard shakes his head, almost as though woging. No, he won't give in to these daydreams. He will not accept that it was all for nothing, Black Claw, what he did.

As they pull up outside the address Nick sits upright, puts a hand on Renard's arm as he would leave.  
"Sean, I want to talk to you."  
Nick can feel the tremor that runs through the arm beneath his hand, the tension in the muscles even through the material of jacket and shirt. He tightens his hand slightly, not to prevent Renard leaving but almost to reassure.  
"Go on then."

Nick talks, tries to put into words how he's felt recently, how he feels like he understands Renard more. He's not good at 'talking', these kind of conversations (he's been told that once today already) but he gives it a go. He looks straight ahead, because it's easier and Renard isn't saying anything,  
"- and I think I know now, about Kronenberg and I totally understand why you had to get Diana away, why you couldn't let her go there after those things they did to you. And I hadn't realised so much had happened to us that was kinda similar, I guess it's given me an insight. I'm not saying I understand about Black Claw and everything -", he risks a glance across at Renard, stops abruptly. He's never seen Renard look like this, not in the loft after killing Bonaparte, not on the roof, not after Jack or facing off over the first key. He looks at Nick, no woge but the expression on his human face is far more terrifying,  
"You're telling me that not only did you use my body, my face to get what you wanted but that you feel it's given you some sort of _insight_ , that now you are in my head? And you somehow expect me to be happy about that? You've taken a lot from me Burkhardt, now you're taking every last shred of my privacy. I have had enough, enough of being controlled, used, invaded, enough of you and all your friends. We go, we see this man, and then you get out of my precinct and out of me. Talk to Adalind, talk to Eve, I don't care what they have to do, sleep with them all if you need to, but don't come near me until you've resolved it. And if you ever use my body, my appearance, my thoughts against me again, I will kill you, no matter what the cost."  
Renard slams out of the car, Nick follows miserably. He'd react with anger, with fists, with bitter words but he can't, because all he can feel are the waves of fear, of hopelessness trailing behind Renard.

Joseph Stockton's house is a large one, well-cared for, two cars with this year's plates outside. Nick shows his badge and Stockton's girlfriend lets them inside, shows them through to where Stockton is sitting in a chair. Nick has no idea why Sendler hated this man - Sendler's friends and family knew only the fact of his dislike and Nick frankly doesn't care at the moment - but he greets them pleasantly.  
"Sir, based on some recent crimes we are concerned you may be a target. Do you know a man called Matthew Sendler?"  
Stockton nods vaguely,  
"I think so, I don't remember very clearly. Sendler, you say?"  
Nick shows him a photo, Stockton peers at it. He looks up vaguely and Nick suddenly recognises the expression, the blank stare. They are too late. Even as the realisation dawns he hears a movement behind him and then his name, not shouted but resonating in his head. He turns, Renard is standing there, eyes fixed on Nick as he crumples to his knees, falls forward. Behind him is the woman they thought was Stockton's girlfriend. She's Wesen, something insect-like, grotesque, her skin a sickly green, her body extending backwards to a venomous looking sting. Careless, Nick thinks, distracted and careless, bringing Renard into this situation when he was hardly holding it together, when he himself barely had his mind on the case. He takes up a fighting stance, reaches for his gun. He talks to distract her as they circle, as he tries to think how best to fight her,  
"You're the one who's been doing this, attacking wesen, stealing their woge?"  
"Wesen are good to feed on but so are humans. It's not their woge I feed on, it's their hate, their anger. Their joy in the pain of others, their sadism." Her voice is sibilant, savouring the memory of her feeding. "You think humans don't have those things? I've heard of you both, the detective and nearly Mayor Renard. I expected you to be cleverer, you stupid, stupid Grimm. But I think you and he will be delicious, all that hate for each other."  
Stupid, thinks Nick, they can add that to his headstone along with careless and distracted. He fires off a shot but she's fast and Renard is on the floor, vulnerable, he can't fire freely. He moves round the room, ducks away from the sting, oily fluid flying in droplets as she moves. He lunges, turns, aware of movement behind him. Someone crashes into him, Stockton he realises, and as he stumbles the stinger swings towards him, plunges into his side. He feels the numbness spreading from the site and then he's falling.

Sean is lying on the floor, looking at the ceiling. He can't move. Someone - Stockton? - has dragged them into the middle of the room. He can see and hear, has been able to throughout, but most of all he can feel. Nick is half on top of him, close as a lover. How bitter is that? He can feel Nick's breath against his neck - good, he's alive anyway - the warmth of his body. How often has he dreamt of this? How often has Nick dreamt of this, shared his fantasies. He would burn at the thought but it seems too late for that. He can hear the Wesen woman moving around, putting back knocked over furniture from the sound of it. So, she takes away anger and hate? Sean could almost welcome it. But can she take away what he feels for Nick, really, really feels?

Nick can feel Sean half underneath him, the slight rise and fall of his chest tells him he's alive. His head is resting on Sean's shoulder, the warmth of his skin so close the slightest movement would bring it within reach of his mouth. Except he can't move of course.

They lie, bodies pressed together.

_He has a secret, has had it a long, long time. He thinks anyone should be able to sleep with - live with, love - whoever they want, providing it's legal and everyone wants it. But his vision of a family is set, a re-creation of that golden, half-forgotten childhood before the car crash took it from him: mom, dad, child. He likes the company of women, enjoys closeness, being held, even sex. And if he has the occasional fantasy, the occasional dream of something different he keeps it buried, ignores those moments of desire for someone bigger, stronger, a hard body, a different body. A man. And then those thoughts gain a focus, the Captain. He wants him, dreams of him, his hands, his mouth, his body. Has no idea how to behave with him because of these thoughts._

_He has a secret, he has many secrets of course, but this secret is different. This is a secret that has cost him a lot, maybe more then the secret of being a Zauberbiest ever did, more than the secret of being a bastard prince. He's kept this secret so far inside himself that at first even he didn't recognise it. When the secret nearly cost him his life he began to suspect, when the secret made him do things he'd never thought to do, then he knew. And finally one night he nearly revealed the secret and realised that the secret could not be tolerated and so he acted. Black Claw and betrayal, the consolation of power and his increasingly open hatred of Nick Burkhardt, that was the right course, the only course. Because if he was openly Nick's enemy, if the hatred between them was obvious to all surely that would become the truth even to himself, the secret would be gone for ever. Because the secret is that he loves Nick Burkhardt._

Nick has to move. He forces every ounce of his strength into it, every bit of his willpower and his hand responds. It's like moving through treacle, against a huge weight. The effort is enormous but slowly, slowly his fingers reach out, touch. Sean's hand, his big, beautiful hand. And equally slowly the long, elegant fingers curl around his. Nick turns his head, an effort that seems greater than fighting a dozen siegbarsten, until his mouth rests against Sean's skin, forces his lips to move in a slow motion kiss, the taste of his skin, the slight catch of stubble. There is a sound, a grunt of effort and Sean's arm moves a fraction, then a fraction further until he is holding Nick, pulling him closer. Nick turns into the embrace, leg sliding between Sean's, lifts his body against the gravity of a dozen planets and brings his mouth close to Sean's. Their lips touch, their breath mingles, their eyes meet. They are so close even their thoughts are no longer separate.

"Don't they look delicious? You know, Joseph, I don't know which to taste first. You were just a snack, a filler but these two, these two will be a banquet. But which to sample first? What did you put them like this for, right on top of each other, I can't see properly. Move them apart."  
Stockton grabs Nick, roll him roughly away from Sean. He can see the woman, unwoged but still with staring, hungry eyes. She's looking down at them, tongue sliding across her lips,  
"Who has the most hatred, who will enjoy seeing the other suffer the most? Captain Renard I think..."  
She shakes her head and the woge takes her, the greenish cast spreading across her skin, her body elongating, the sting protruding. She makes a really nasty chittering noise too. She hovers over Sean, reaches her claw-like hands to either side of his head. She chitters again, bends lower,

_He loves Nick, the way he looks, the way he is, the Grimm who's made his own rules, lives his own way. He kissed Juliette, not because it would keep Nick in Portland but because he couldn't stand Nick's pain, couldn't bear it. He tried to help Nick, defend him against Adalind's plotting, can still feel the shots, can feel the blackness of a death that would have been worth it to save Nick. He walked beside Nick and should never have left his side. He loves Nick and Nick knows. Nothing else matters but that._

_He thinks of Sean, who protected him before ever he knew what he was. Always there, helping him, dying for him, never given enough in return. He wants to know what it would feel like to be held by Sean, to be kissed, to be fucked. Wants to make this beautiful, damaged man know that he can be loved. That Nick can love him._

The insect figure shrieks, pulls back clawing at the sides of her head, mouth foaming. Sean launches himself upwards, muscles screaming, venom fighting against every movement. But he will move. His fist connects satisfyingly despite his staggering and as the stinger sweeps around towards him Nick is there. The fight is ugly, a Zauberbiest and a Grimm reeling and flailing, none of their usual strength and power. But eventually it is enough, sheer determination makes it enough.

They slump to the floor, the broken body of the woman half across a shattered coffee table. She looks human again but her face and mouth are covered in a viscous green foam.  
"I don't think she liked how you tasted."  
Sean grunts, they're leaning against each other, breathing hard. Nick looks at the woman, hatred and sadism fed her, love and altruism poisoned her. It makes sense he guesses. He turns his head, looks at Sean,  
"You love me?"  
"I love you."  
"You had kind of a strange way of showing it."  
"I know. I'm...sorry."  
"I"m sorry too, for letting you think that was the only option."  
He smiles up at Sean, lifts a weary, heavy arm up to pull the other man's head towards him. His lips are everything Nick dreamt of.  
They sit like that, mouths resting together, listen to the approaching sirens.

 

***********

  
The ER is busy and they're put in a side room for observation. Both have bruising and a puncture wound where the sting hit them, both are still feeling the effects of the venom. Sean is sitting up on the hospital bed and Nick has pulled a chair up next to him, even though he's supposed to be resting on the neighbouring bed. Nick has Sean's hand clasped between both of his. Wu comes in to update them and take their statements, looks at their hands.  
"Nick, just so you know, if we ever officially become each other's enemies and then reconcile I do not in any way find you desirable. You know, buy me a drink, maybe send a card - that would be plenty."  
Nick gives him a look, Wu is unrepentant,  
"Just saying. We're charging Stockton as an accessory, although the poor guy's so out of it I doubt it will ever come to trial. Hank is concocting a suitable story to cover waspy vampire woman as we speak - I think suicide by cop after taking some kind of poison seems to be the way he's going. You both going to be ok?"  
"The other victims had no trace of any paralysis, I guess the venom will just wear off."  
"Good, though that's not quite what I was asking."  
"We"re going to be fine, Wu, just fine."  
Nick smiles round at Sean and tightens his hand. Wu slips out, shaking his head at the surprisingness of the world.

Adalind comes in, looks at Nick, at their hands.  
"I guess you wanted more too."  
Nick has no idea what to say, how on earth to resolve this. But Adalind doesn't seem mad, in fact she pulls up a chair, sits next to him.  
"Are you both ok?"  
Nick nods mutely.  
Adalind looks at Sean,  
"You actually look better than you've done for a while. Which probably says more about how bad you've looked recently. Diana's been worried."  
Surprisingly she reaches up, brushes Sean's cheek with her fingers, then leans into Nick for a moment.  
"I'll get the children, take them back to the loft, I'll tell them you're both fine."  
Nick finds his voice,  
"You don't seem surprised. How can you possibly be okay with this?"  
She smiles,  
"Maybe I know you both better than you think. Plus Diana drew a picture for you."  
She reaches into her bag, pulls out a drawing. At the top it says 'My Family' and below are five figures, neatly labelled: Me, daddy, Nick, mommy, Kelly. The two clearly male figures are holding hands.  
"I did check - she had nothing to do with this, she just said this was the right way to draw it. We'll talk tomorrow, all of us. For now you two need some time, take it."

They watch her leave. Nick turns to Sean, Sean reaches his free hand round to cup his jaw,  
"Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The waspy vampire wesen owes a debt of gratitude to one of my favourite books - if you like dark fantasy, a gorgeous anti-hero and a relationship between two characters which is rife with interesting possibilities (you're reading Grimm fanfiction so I guess you might) then I would totally recommend the Coldfire trilogy by Celia (or C. S.) Friedman.


	5. Chapter 5

'Let's go home' turns out to be easier said than done. First they have to get out of the hospital and that takes a lot of arguing that they are fit to go, having needles stuck in their arms, peeing into cups, a pile of paperwork. The second problem is that wherever Sean's SUV is, it isn't here. It doesn't seem right to call anyone for a lift ('Hey, Monroe, could you pick me and Sean up and take us to his house? Yeah, Sean Renard. What are we going to do there? Uh....'). By the time they're in a cab and heading towards Sean's house there's a slight but palpable tension. It would have been fine, Nick thinks, if they could have kept on holding hands (okay, maybe not for the peeing into cups part) but now he can tell that to Sean the short distance between them seems huge. And getting out of the cab, standing with his hands in his pockets while Sean pays and finds his keys, following him into this beautiful, unfamiliar house, it does all feel like he's still dreaming.

Sean knows he's stalling, fiddling with his keys, folding his ruined jacket unnecessarily neatly. For a while there it had seemed so easy, so certain. 'Let's go home', what had he been thinking? This isn't Nick's home, barely even his own yet. He's not sure what's on the table here either - all those feelings revealed and shared, how can they fit with real life? Is this a one night stand and then Nick heads back to life with Adalind, him an uneasy addition to Nick's charmed circle. Or is it really more than that? There has been nothing in his life to prepare him for this, he really doesn't know how to take the next step. It takes a while and more courage than seems possible but he finally turns around, clean out of excuses to keep his back to Nick. Nick is standing and looking round the room and he looks so ...Nick...that it all seems hugely unlikely. He searches for something to say,  
"Would you like a drink?"

Does he, Nick wonders? Would it help Sean relax? The effects of the venom have mostly worn off, he just feels kind of achy, but he's not sure alcohol is a good idea. In fact what he really wants is to touch Sean, wants to touch him very much. The dreams were good, now he wants the reality,  
"I could do with a shower actually."  
"Sure. There's a guest bath, I'll just need to get you some-”  
Nick smiles. Deep breath, "Sean, I'm not planning to be in a different room to you at all tonight. And I am certain that a house this fancy has a shower somewhere that's big enough for two."

The house is as impressive upstairs as it is downstairs but it's fair to say that Nick is less than focused on the interior decoration. He notices the bed though, the very large bed, can't help a second's image of what might happen there. But first a shower. Which means taking clothes off of course. Sean is standing a few feet away, fingers hesitating on the buttons of his shirt, and Nick crosses to him,  
"Here, let me."  
Nick undoes one button, then another. He knows this body, knows the hardness of it, the strength, remembers the feeling of being heavier, broader shoulders, longer limbs. But he's never touched like this, fingers against smooth, smooth skin, firm muscle, the dips and hollows. Another button, then another, fingers brushing a tight nipple. Sean breathes in sharply and Nick drags his eyes upwards. There's still a wariness in the green eyes watching him. Nick rests one hand flat against the strong chest, lifts the other to Sean's face. With touch somehow understanding comes.

_He watched Nick with Juliette, their friendship, the warmth and comfort of their life. When it crumbled Juliette came to him - for one night. There was no warmth or comfort in that night, it was as much about pain and hate as it was about sex. One night. He watched Nick with Adalind, a hexenbiest tamed, the surprising normality pulled from the strangeness of their lives. He had one night with Adalind, a night of lust and desperation on his part, calculation and utility on hers. One night. Mia, Rachel, other women, other men - more than one night but no more meaning than if it had been. Perhaps they got everything they could use in one night. Perhaps Nick will get everything in one night too._

_He loved Juliette, he really did. She was his best friend - until she wasn't of course. He loves Adalind, the mother of his child. But he's always wondered if there's something more. Something - some one _ _more than a friend, more than a companion. He's seen it in others, heat and passion turning friendship and companionship into something even better, two people who together are forged into so much more than they were apart. And now finally he knows who his someone is._

"I don't know all the details, exactly how this is going to work between us. But it is going to work, and I don't just mean for tonight or this week or this year."  
Nick looks up at Sean, determined to make him understand,  
"This is the first night we spend together, not the only night, trust me."  
Sean's face relaxes and for the first time since they left the hospital he touches Nick, one hand in his hair, the other pulling him closer.  
"We had better make it a memorable one then."  
Nick moves his hand, intending to go back to work on Sean's shirt buttons, but his hand is caught, held away. A smile lifts Sean's lips,  
"It seems to me you already know my body quite well. It's surely only fair I get to know yours."

Sean undresses him, takes his time over every button, every slide of cloth against skin. He traces the lines of collarbone and spine with fingers and lips, uses his beautiful big hands to stroke and tease across ribs and stomach and back. Jeans and underwear are removed with tantalising slowness, each newly revealed expanse of skin studied. By the time Nick is naked he's achingly hard, by the time he's watched Sean remove his own clothes he's breathing like he's been running. The shower is plenty big enough for two and Sean washes him, turning him beneath the spray of water, hands, fingers, lips exploring, knowing him. Nick has never been so turned on in his whole life and when finally, finally Sean holds them both, when he looks down and sees Sean's hand, just like he'd always imagined except so much better, he comes so hard Sean has to hold him up.

They lie together on the big bed and talk. Not about big things but about how Sean found this house, the best coffee in Portland, what they both like to eat. They kiss and laugh and then the stroking and caressing and touching starts again.  
"What do you want?", Sean asks, his hand stroking against the curve of Nick's ass.  
"Yes", Nick says, and they both understand what question he's really answering.

It's everything Nick dreamt of. Sean's hands, his clever, clever fingers that stroke and circle and touch and press, sensations Nick has never felt before, a fireworks display of arousal and response. And finally Sean himself, eyes never leaving Nick's, as intimate as the spell that started all this, knowing every part of Nick. The miracle happens,

 _He's full of Sean, his body stretching and welcoming and feeling everything._  
H _e's surrounded by Nick, every nerve ending overloaded by the sensation of being so close._  
_He can feel both things, everything. How being Nick feels, how being Sean feels. In every place they touch the sensation is doubled, touching and touched, holding and held. The heat and the need. The love_.

The two men sleep, sticky, sweaty, wrapped in each other's arms. They don't dream. Tonight there is no need.


	6. Chapter 6

Nick's dreaming of Sean, his hands, his touch, when he's woken by a noise. He opens his eyes, listens more intently. It's Kelly who woke him but he hears his son give another excited yell, Diana's voice and then Adalind's. All okay with the world. Adalind's footsteps are coming closer though, heels clicking briskly, and so he lifts himself up on one elbow. The door opens and Adalind's head appears,  
"You got in late."  
"Yeah, bunch of coyotls. Smelly, not very bright coyotls."  
"I thought I heard the shower. Have you remembered I'm taking the children out with Rosalee this morning? Be back about 1.30."  
"Yeah, sure. I'll see you later."  
Adalind shuts the door with a click and Nick lies back. Then he turns over,  
"You hear that? We got the house to ourselves for the next four hours."  
"I heard."  
Nick finds himself suddenly on his back, six foot four inches of Zauberbiest above him. Sean smiles,  
"And what do you think we should do with that opportunity?"  
Nick grins back,  
"Why don't you show me some of the options?"  
So Sean does.

Rather later Sean is in the kitchen, feeling satisfied. Actually smug probably covers it better - he considers it a job well done when Nick loses the power of speech entirely, apart from Sean's own name. Sean puts on coffee, tidies away a few toys and a rainbow of pens and pencils. The fridge displays the latest additions to the gallery and he pauses to look. Kelly's contribution is an avant garde swirl of bright blue with red highlights, Diana's drawn three pictures of horses (they are all carefully not noticing her hints about how nice it would be to have a horse) and one of her 'My Family' pictures. In this one he has his arm round Nick, who is leaning close against him and drawn in profile as though just about to kiss him. He smiles. Their friends know the reality of their lives but they don't publicise it more widely - good job the refrigerator repair man counts among the friends.

Nick comes into the kitchen, joins him at the fridge.  
"What are you looking at?"  
"Diana's pictures."  
"More horses?"  
"Yes. But also more of all of us."  
"She does love having a family."  
Sean turns, strokes Nick's cheek,  
"Her and me both."

Sean starts on making a very late breakfast and Nick sits at the table, checking through the local news to make sure last night's coyotl intervention hasn't made any headlines.  
"Hey, there's a story here about you getting that award next week."  
Sean comes across to look. He feels rather uncomfortable with this award, one he's receiving because of the success of the task force he set up to reduce 'gang related crime'. As it was really clearing up the remnants of Black Claw in Portland he feels Nick has rather more claim to commendation than him. He leans across Nick's shoulder and looks. There's a short news item, a photo.  
"Well, they're giving credit where it's due, at least in the picture."  
Nick follows Sean's pointing finger to the photo and Sean sees the realisation hit. That's not Sean - however much it might look like him - it's Nick, must have been taken at the press conference Nick called after he'd taken the Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester. Sean is quite surprised how obvious it is to him, Nick's way of standing, the tilt of his head. They look at the picture for a second and then Nick suddenly turns in his chair and comes up into Sean's arms.  
"I never said sorry."  
Sean looks at Nick,  
"I'm not sure what you have to apologise for?"  
"For borrowing your face and your body without your permission. Using you."  
"Nick, if my heart stopped and you did CPR and saved me, would you apologise for a few bruises?"  
"I'm not sure it's the same."  
"I was in every bit as much danger and you saved me. You saved me from doing something wrong and then saved me from a life I didn't want to live. And without the...side effects...I'm not sure either of us would have believed that all we have now was possible. Whatever the rights and wrongs of what you did, what I did, we made it here. I can only be grateful for that."  
They hold tight for a few seconds and then Nick suddenly grins,  
"I paid for it you know. I must have banged my head about ten times, and twice I smacked myself in the face because my arms weren't where I expected them to be. And I kept kicking things, your feet are huge!"  
"Cheeky. You seemed to have got them under control by the time we were wrestling on that roof."  
"Have I mentioned how much more I enjoy the uh, 'wrestling' we do now?"  
Breakfast gets delayed again.

Sean and Nick are eating lunch by the time Adalind and the children get back, Diana full of excitement ('Daddy, there were _horses_!) and Kelly ready for a nap. Adalind is out tonight so she's heading off for a vigorous afternoon of hair and beauty, leaving the children with their fathers. Sean sits listening to Diana's excited chatter (where could they keep a horse if they had one?) and watches his family. Nick with Kelly on his knee. His daughter smiling and laughing. Even Adalind, he even counts Adalind as family these days. Who would have thought it? It's the last thing he ever expected, family, love.

Nick sits holding Kelly as he falls asleep, watches the others. Sean listening to Diana, Adalind looking fondly on. He's not quite sure if Adalind has found her own 'more' yet but she seems contented for the moment, enjoys this house, this lifestyle, knowing that her children are happy and safe. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, them all under one roof but it's working. Nick used to have a clear picture of what his family would look like and it didn't look like this. But it turns out this family is what he needed, what he wanted.

 

It's a peaceful day, the kind of day both of them treasure for that alone. Not entirely a 'normal' day maybe - Nick heads out for an hour to meet up with Monroe and check on reports of a vagrant (and non-vegetarian) blutbad out in Belmont, Sean works through a pile of reports, some of them from the Portland Police Bureau, some from more unofficial and unusual sources. They play with their children - and maybe most kids don't get their toys levitated round the room by their big sister but Kelly likes it. They cook dinner together and all eat. The children go to bed. And at the peaceful end of their peaceful day, so do they.

The effects of the transformation spell have faded over time and they don't often walk through each other's dreams. That's okay though, because they've learned that if you talk and touch and keep telling each other how much love there truly is between you then that has its own magic. But it has never gone away entirely and even now there are moments, moments when they're close physically, focused totally on each other, when each feels the others thoughts. And on this night when they lie, half asleep, half awake, wrapped securely in each other's arms, then it happens once more,

 _I love him._  
_I love him._  
_Happiness._  
_Together_


End file.
